


The Life They Fought For

by sunnynights



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Post-Canon, Post-Vecna Arc (Critical Role), everyone is happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22102297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnynights/pseuds/sunnynights
Summary: It had been many, many years since the party called Vox Machina disbanded and settled into domesticity. Yet, Percival still cannot believe how he had been granted such a beautiful life.
Relationships: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia, Scanlan Shorthalt/Pike Trickfoot (background)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66





	The Life They Fought For

**Author's Note:**

> Small note, this was written months before the Dalen's Closet one shot. So, sorry Vesper Elaina fans but I like this fic too much to change it ;)

“The tower was beginning to crumble but we held our ground. I opened fire on the Empyrean and emptied Cabal’s Ruin into the shot, but still the bloody creature wouldn’t fall. Finally, we managed to get your Uncle Grog,”

Percival de Rolo felt a wet bear’s nose against his side. Trinket had gotten up from his rest in the corner of the room to interrupt the story with a nudge and a huff of hot breath.

“Sorry,” Percy corrected. “ _Trinket_ got Grog to the crystal, causing his soul to return to his body. With a roar and a song from Scanlan, he cut down the beast in two hits. The end. Now, time for bed.”

His children, spellbound by the story, groaned in complaint.

“The story can’t be over. What happened to Lieve’tel and Bertrand Bell?” asked his oldest. Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo IV was, funnily enough, a spitting image of his mother.

“And how did you all get back home?” asked the twins in unison. Two girls with brown hair and eyes as blue as owlbear feathers. The only way to distinguish between them was Johanna wore wire-rim spectacles and Elaina never let anyone forget that her vision was superior to her sister’s.

“The search for Bob is a tale for another night. Now, you all really must be getting to bed or else your mother will be cross. Look, your brother is already asleep.”

The youngest de Rolo child, little Vax’ildan, lay passed out on the floor. Percy picked him up and brought him to his bed. He tucked the sleeping boy in under the covers and lightly kissed the top of his head. The other children grumbled but complied. Percy went down the line and bid each of them goodnight.

“Take care of them,” he murmured to Trinket. An unnecessary instruction: Trinket had guarded them with his life from the day they were born. The bear gave a knowing nod and settled back into his corner to keep watch. Percival quietly walked out of the room, pausing to turn on the night light mounted near the base of the door. He had invented this bulb of glass and wire for Vax’ildan; the boy was afraid of the dark but the twins couldn’t be trusted with an open flame.

Percival strode down the corridors of Whitestone Castle and asked himself for the millionth time how he had gotten so lucky. The Briarwoods had taken everything from him that fateful day, and he was torn between wanting revenge and wanting to never have been born. When he was freed from that prison cell in the Umbra Hills years later, he was grateful to Vox Machina but he didn’t think he would ever be truly happy again. He didn’t deserve freedom. Sometimes, Percival still found himself believing he wasn’t worthy of what he had. It was Vex’halia that pulled him out of the darkness. _Darling, take off the mask_. How many years had it been since Orthax’s suffocating influence had grasped him, poisoning his mind? Ten? Fifteen? It was always Vex. Strong, stubborn, brilliant Vex who knew just how to save him from himself.

He entered the bedroom and there she was. Vex’halia de Rolo, thanks to her elven blood, looked just as good as the day they met. But she could have looked like a troll and he still would have loved her. She laid on the bed, flipping listlessly through a book. Her eyes lifted off the pages and met his. Beaming, she got up.

“I think I’m pregnant again!”

Percival laughed and ran his hand through his hair.

“Sweet Dawnfather, woman, are you mad? We’re not running a farm here!”

But he still pulled Vex’halia into a deep kiss.

“I told you I wanted a big family,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Besides, you had more siblings than that.”

“It’s different when you’re the parents. And I would never recommend a family of seven to anyone.” Percival looked into Vex’s eyes, sparkling with excitement at the prospect of another de Rolo to add to the mix, and saw his whole world. Baroness of the First House of Whitestone, Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt, Champion of Pelor. His wife. His brightest star, more scintillating than the ones in the sky and bolder than the ones on his home’s emblem. The mother of his children, now all five of them. “I’m so incredibly happy. We’ll go to a cleric in the morning, make sure everything’s alright.”

With another kiss on Vex’s cheek, Percival rose off the bed and went to the closet to get changed. He stripped off his always polished daytime attire and peered at himself in the mirror. He had put on weight since his adventuring days and there were wrinkles beginning to form at the corners of his eyes from years of squinting down the barrel of a gun. But Percival didn’t mind. He knew aging was a gift not granted to everyone.

What else had changed? He hadn’t touched a gun in years, deciding that the world had had enough of that demon’s fantasy. He instead spent his time making clocks and lightbulbs and other small inventions that were delightfully insignificant and served no purpose beyond making people smile. He would have hidden the legacy of his weapon from his own children if he could have, but that proves difficult when you’re raised by two of the heroes of Tal Dorei. 

The other members of Vox Machina were never far, either. Grog, Pike, and Scanlan made fairly regular trips up from Westruun to visit. Grog had recently learned to read and write Common well enough that Percival now had to deal with crass but accurately spelled graffiti, courtesy of the Grand Poobah himself. Scanlan also made visits in secret to ask them a hundred questions before his and Pike’s baby was born.

“If I don’t do everything right on this one,” he joked, “Kaylie would kill me. Then Pikey would Revivify me and kill me again.”

But Percy, between fathers, knew the gnome’s apprehension was all his own. No one had changed more than Scanlan. Who would have guessed what a family man the bard would have become?

Keyleth didn’t visit often enough for Percival’s taste, but it was always a big occasion when she did. Everyone would come down to the Sun Tree to see her regally step into Whitestone. But once she met eyes with them, her composure would dissolve back into the same excitable Kiki they knew and loved. She would hoist Vax’ildan onto her shoulders as the twins fought over who got to wear her circlet of antlers and Percival IV begged to be Polymorphed into something ridiculous. After the kids were put to bed, they would talk for hours and hours on end. He, Vex, and Keyleth shared stories that never ended over drinks that never emptied as if they were still in their Vox Machina days (fighting dragons and Gods with a hangover turned out to be just as difficult as parenting with one).

As the night got later and the three got drunker, the conversation would almost always settle on the Vax. In the early days, Percival would narrowly avoid the subject. But he realized that Vex and Keyleth would never heal that way. Instead, they celebrated him. They shared memories from their adventuring days, Vex told old stories of their childhood. The night would always end with raised glasses and tears, but everyone’s heart hurt a little less.

As fast as the mountain winds of Zephrah, the Voice of the Tempest would be called home and her visit would be over. Percival understood the demands of a leader, but it didn’t make her departure any easier. Six seconds. That’s how long they had to yell their goodbyes as Keyleth stepped back through the Sun Tree. And then she was gone.

Every now and then, their other friends made an appearance. Allura visited on Council of Tal Dorei business but Kima always tagged along, which meant no one got much work done. The ever-glorious Gilmore was busy managing his multiple franchise locations but always made time to come over for tea. No one was more excited than the children, who knew the arrival of Uncle Gilmore held the promise of expensive, magical, and often dangerous gifts. When Zahra and Kashaw took a break from the Slayer’s Take, they would come home to Whitestone. Their daughter was around the same age as Percival IV, who had taken quite a liking to her after she demolished him in a fight. Tary couldn’t visit but he constantly sent letters. He missed them so much, the Darrington Brigade was finding success in Deastok, he had reconnected with Lawrence, and his book was close to completion. Cassandra, finally free from the responsibilities of Whitestone proper, had set off to see the world and live the life she had been cheated out of enjoying. She had taken Kynan along as protection (though Percival suspected there was something more). It had taken a while to get there, but all of their friends were alive and well and finding happiness in their own unique ways.

“What on Exandria is taking you so long? Did you lock yourself in the closet?”

Percival was shaken from his reminiscing by his wife’s voice. He smiled at the sound.

“Come to bed before I name our child Raishan.”

Yes, this happiness was most definitely worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually pretty proud of this one so I hope y'all enjoyed! Leave a comment, tell me what you think. Can you tell that I'm not over campaign 1 ;))))))


End file.
